Posts from March 2012

March 29, 2012

When I saw the new musical Once Off-Broadway at theNew York Theatre Workshop, I found it disarming and sweet, but I had serious reservations about plans to move the show to Broadway. It's a lovely show, but it seemed a bit too delicate and small for Broadway. I had to wonder whether a commercial transfer was wise.

Well, the critical response to Once, which opened last week on Broadway, was almost universally positive. Downright ecstatic, in many cases. And, so far, the Broadway grosses for the show look pretty solid. So, what do I know, right? Well, for once, it seems that the critics and the ticket-buying public are rightfully in-sync, because Once is an unqualified winner.

I had a chance to see Once again shortly before it opened on Broadway, and, whereas I was charmed the first time I saw it, the second time I was blown away. I'm not quite sure how to explain this, except perhaps that the Wednesday matinee audience I saw at the NYTW was a tad listless, and this may have had an effect on the performers.

But the Friday night Broadway audience was all in, taking full advantage of the on-stage bar, and mingling jovially with the performers during the raucous pre-show jam session of Irish and Czech songs. There's no real start to the show: the action emerges almost imperceptibly from the warm-up concert. What follows is a refreshingly heartfelt expression of simple, honest emotion, but nonetheless brimming with human complexity. Once is a restorative tonic of simplicity amid the non-stop barrage of spectacle and glitz that most of the movies-turned musicals these days have to offer. (See Sister Act, Priscilla, Ghost, etc. Or rather, don't see Sister Act, Priscilla, and Ghost.)

The musical Once is, of course, based on the movie "Once", which was written and directed by John Carney, whose screenplay was adapted for the stage by Enda Walsh. The story is simple: boy loses girl, boy writes songs, new girl persuades boy to record his songs, boy and new girl may or may not fall in love in the process. Despite the seeming simplicity of the tale, the appeal here is in the richness of the telling and the characterization.

The subject matter of Once could easily have careened off into the land of the precious, but director John Tiffany shows a firm hand in keeping the interactions real. Choreographer Steven Hoggett aids Tiffany ably here with movement that not only propels the story forward, but is also thematically additive. Some of Hoggett's Bill T. Jones-esque hand-ography is a tad awkward, but for the most part the movement helps to drive the hypnotic build of the songs, particularly in the act 1 finale, in which the young man and woman at the center of the story (known only as "Guy" and "Girl" in the program) bring the young man's songs to an open-mic night at a local pub. It's one of those wonderful moments in musical theater when song, movement, and character coalesce into something genuinely thrilling.

It's interesting, but one of the things that really struck me about the songs to Once is that they are all diegetic: that is, the characters are actually performing songs within the context of the show. (The songs are mostly by Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová, who also starred in the original movie.) Now, according to musical-theater purists, scores that comprise a series of unintegrated pop songs shouldn't be effective. And this actually tends to be true. Witness the plague of "songbook" and "jukebox" musicals, and how for every show of this ilk that actually works (Jersey Boys) there are at least a dozen that don't, at least not dramatically (Mamma Mia, Baby It's You, Good Vibrations, All Shook Up). What makes the songs work in Once is that each number has a strong emotional resonance with what the characters are experiencing. Plus, they're just really good songs, seemingly simple, and yet rich in atmosphere and timbre.

I'm surprised that I haven't heard anyone denounce the whole "actor/musician" aspect of Once. Nearly everyone in the cast plays at least one instrument during the performance, and there is no pit band or off-stage orchestra, at least that I could see. I've heard many people decry director John Doyle and what they see as his "lazy" reliance on the same actor/musician "gimmick." Well, anyone who thinks actor/musicians are just a gimmick should definitely see Once. Whereas the idea of all the people in Bobby's life playing musical instruments in Company may seem like a stretch, here it makes perfect sense, partly because the characters themselves are actually playing instruments, but also because it adds to the communal nature of the piece. Should every musical have actor/musicians? Most assuredly no. But should it remain a viable option for other musicals? I'm thinking yes.

The cast members of Once add immeasurably to the show's appeal, particularly Steve Kazee and Cristin Milioti as "Guy" and "Girl." Milioti makes a stunning impression from her very first scene, bringing a heartfelt buoyancy to a character who could very easily have come off as forced and annoying. A major (and pleasant) surprise here is my old friend Steve Kazee. Long-time readers may recall that Kazee and I had a bit of a run-in a few years back when he was appearing as the Pirate King in an updated version of The Pirates of Penzance, called Pirates, which played the Huntington Theater here in Boston. (Read my review.) At the time, I expressed dissatisfaction with his performance, and said that it was beginning to look as though his "charisma-deprived" performance as Starbuck in the 110 in the Shade revival wasn't a fluke. Kazee contacted me and took issue with my observations.

Well, based on Kazee's performance in Once, I think I can safely say that he is an extremely talented man who was simply waiting for the right part to come along. Starbuck and the Pirate King are about larger-than-life showmanship. Guy is about quiet dignity and vocal expressiveness, which seem much more in Kazee's idiom. Guy starts Once with the wail of a shattered man, and as the show develops, we see him open up and begin to heal, driven by the inexorable force of Girl entering his life and imbuing him with a sense of purpose. Kazee handles this transformation with deceptive ease, and along the way provides a series of spine-tingling song performances, one of the major highlights of this all-around excellent production.

So, congratulations, Steve. I'm genuinely thrilled to see you in a show so suitably matched to your undeniable talents.

But, of course, as with all my contests, there's a certain price of admission. A trivia contest! Below are some questions regarding the cast as crew of Leap of Faith and their respective theatrical careers. If you'd like to be entered for the drawing, please answer the questions as best you can and submit your answers below via the comment function at the bottom of this post. (Don't worry: I won't publish anyone's answers until the contest is over.)

The voucher is good for two tickets for weekday/matinee performances of Leap of Faith through Sunday, May 6. The contest ends Monday, April 2nd.

Good luck!

[The contest is over and the winner has been notified. Thanks to everyone who entered. -C.C.]

1. Alan Menken and Glenn Slater are certainly no strangers to Broadway. In fact, they already have another show currently running on Broadway. What's the name of this show? And what's the name of the first show that they worked on together that played Broadway? [ANSWER: Sister Act and The Little Mermaid, respectively.]

2. Raul Esparza is one of only two actors who have been nominated in all four male actor categories for the Tony Awards. What were the shows for which he received nominations in the categories for Best Actor in a Musical and Best Featured Actor in a Musical? [ANSWER: Best Actor in a Musical: Company Best Featured Actor in a Musical: Taboo]

3. Jessica Phillips will play the role of Marla in Leap of Faith. Phillips replaces which iconic actress who played the role when the show played its out-of-town tryout in Los Angeles? [ANSWER: Brooke Shields]

4. Co-librettist Warren Leight is yet another in a series of award-winning playwrights who have been called upon to pen musical librettos. For which of his plays did Leight with the Tony Award? [ANSWER: Side Man]

5. Director Christopher Ashley has a long list of Broadway credits to his name. For which currently running Broadway musical did he receive his second Tony nomination for Best Direction of a Musical? [ANSWER: Memphis]

March 25, 2012

I continue to be amazed by purists who seem to think that any changes to Porgy and Bess represent nothing less than sacrilege. Of course, it started with Stephen Sondheim's now-infamous screed in the New York Times, but it continues with various conversations I've had with people who've seen the show now that it's playing on Broadway. The orchestrations sound thin, they say. Or Norm Lewis is no Todd Duncan, they exclaim.

Well, Todd Duncan, with all due respect, is dead. And any modern production that attempted to use anywhere near the number of instruments that the original production featured wouldn't get past the budgeting stage. It would simply be too expensive. Does that mean we can't do Porgy and Bess ever again, if it can't be like it was? That we relegate George Gershwin's sensational music, Ira Gershwin's intelligent lyrics, and DuBose Heyward's compelling story to the history books?

Sorry to rant here, but this picayune niggling has sort of put a bee in my bonnet. Musical-theater aficionados have come to expect that, whenever we see a present-day production of a historic show, changes are inevitable to make the show work for modern audiences. Why is Porgy and Bess any different from any other show of that time? They all get rewritten, including Show Boat and Pal Joey. Is Porgy and Bess somehow more sacred?

From where I sit -- and where I sat, having seen the current production three times -- this new version of Porgy and Bess breathes thrilling new life into a show that, in the wrong hands, can become a creaky, listless bore. Director Diane Paulus and adapter Suzan-Lori Parks have made the drama more credible, the characters more believable. I saw the show twice at the American Repertory Theatre (read my review), and then once at the Richard Rodgers Theater on Broadway, and for me the production, which was splendid to begin with, has become even more teeming with life and emotion.

The performances in particular seem to have become richer and more nuanced as the production has had a chance to solidify. The glorious Audra McDonald is the paramount reason to see this production, and she remains stunning in her emotional intensity. Norm Lewis was out for the particular that I saw in New York, so we got understudy Nathaniel Stampley as Porgy. Well, Stampley can certainly sing the role, but he didn't have much of a presence on-stage. It made me appreciate all the more the understated yet palpable dignity that Norm Lewis brings to the role.

The supporting players appear to have developed a much richer sense of subtext, which was particularly present in the funeral scene and the hurricane segment. I got much more of a sense of the cohesiveness of the ensemble, and the emotional interactions helped these pivotal sequences build to a palpable wave of grief and communal connection. Whereas in Cambridge, I had an intellectual sense of the proceedings, in New York, I felt much more for the profound plight of these people.

There were numerous noticeable changes between the A.R.T. and Broadway versions of Porgy and Bess. The opening moment is staged somewhat differently: in Cambridge, Clara (Nikki Renée Daniels) sang "Summertime" in front of the traveler, but here she sings it as she ambles her way through the rest of the residents of Catfish Row. And this time, she wasn't holding an actual baby in her arms, but rather a theatrical representation (i.e. a doll). That was fine with me: I found the live baby in the Cambridge production to be distracting, particularly with all the cooing verbalizations that my neighboring audience members seemed compelled to share with their companions.

The major physical change in the Broadway Porgy and Bess was the set, by Riccardo Hernandez. In Cambridge, the backdrop portion of Hernandez's set was a curved wooden monolith that titled up in an otherworldly fashion when Crown (Phillip Boykin) made his dramatic reappearance in the midst of the hurricane. His Broadway set was far more literal, and for me less effective, although it did offer the opportunity to see the Catfish Row residents turn out their lights in response to Bess's pleas for sanctuary.

Having already defended the current production of Porgy and Bess, I must admit that not all of the changes were necessarily welcome or effective. Some of Suzan-Lori Parks's new dialog is a bit clunky. At one point, Mariah, the sort-of spiritual mother of the Catfish Row contingent, opens a scene by saying, "Now you girls gotta help me get ready for this here picnic," a line that smacks more of forced exposition than natural dialog. A bit later, she says to Serena, "Now, it's been a month since Robbins (Serena's husband) pass," which again doesn't exactly bear the mark of verisimilitude.

And there are times when the new book seems a tad too efficient. When Crown reemerges for the hurricane scene, it no longer makes sense why he would go back out into the storm to rescue Clara. In the original, he does it to humiliate and taunt Porgy, to show that he's more of a he-man. But in the current version this fails to come through, and we're left to wonder why such a horrible human being would perform such a seemingly selfless act.

One element that remained unfortunately unchanged were the bright, pressed, pastel Sunday clothes that the people of Catfish Row wear to the picnic at the end of Act 1. The garments (by Emilio Sosa) are gorgeous, and make for a rather stunning stage picture, but they seem awfully expensive and fancified for these supposedly indigent people.

But, quibbles aside, the central aspects of this Porgy and Bess work extremely well: the glorious Gershwin score and the sensational cast of top-notch professionals. The best scene in the entire production remains, for me, when Crown reappears at the picnic, and Bess can't seem to resist the pull of desire ("What You Want With Bess?"). Audra McDonald's visceral conjuring of the dueling forces manifesting themselves within Bess ranks among the most harrowing and profoundly moving moments I've ever experienced in theater. And her delirium scene, after Bess stumbles back from Kittiwah Island, hit me like a sucker punch all three times I saw the show.

Due to strong ticket sales, Porgy and Bess has extended the end of its run from July 8th to September 30th. The CD for Porgy and Bess will receive its release from the good folks at PS Classics on May 8th. See the show. Get the CD. And let me know what you think. Are you a purist or a pragmatist? All are certainly welcome, but I think I've made it clear where my own allegience lies.

March 21, 2012

Seventy years ago when Oklahoma! premieredon the New York stage, it singlehandedly changed musical theater forever. Well, I say “singlehandedly,” but in fact composer Richard Rodgers and librettist/lyricist Oscar Hammerstein II didn’t so much innovate as bring the innovations together.

These two gentlemen had worked for decades prior to Oklahoma! to bring dramatic integrity to musical theater, and when they joined up as a team, their work became a culmination of years of experimentation, both in their own work and from the work of others.

Today, however, when some people see Oklahoma!, they often find it quaint, almost hokey, in its seemingly simple tale of a young woman and her momentous decision about who’s going to take her to the box social. People dismiss the show as old-fashioned, the songs as corny, and the creators themselves as hopelessly mired in the picturesque, and consequently of little relevance to our modern sensibilities.

What these people fail to realize is what a genuine revolution Oklahoma! represented to the development of musical theater. All you have to do is look at the typical show of the time – the early 1940s – to see how transformative Oklahoma! truly was.

And that’s why I decided that, as part of the staged-reading series for the musical-theater history course at the Boston Conservatory, I wanted to do Something for the Boys (1943), which was put together by legendary producer Mike Todd, who was famous for a certain kind of Broadway show. That type of show is perhaps best summarized by the famous quote that is often attributed to Todd (but is very likely apocryphal) when he supposedly walked out on Oklahoma! during the show’s intermission when the show was playing its out-of-town tryout engagement in New Haven:

“No legs, no jokes, no chance.”

This quip, whatever its actual source, pretty much sums up the appeal of most Broadway musicals prior to and concurrent with the run of Oklahoma!. The shows were typically empty-headed star vehicles with plenty of pretty girls and lots of corny topical jokes. The score often comprised a random list of songs usually only partially connected to the proceedings at hand. At the time, Broadway music and American popular music were pretty much synonymous, and show songs were often written not so much for character or context but rather to create hit records. Quite frequently, producers would throw in random novelty acts or include a song just to shine a spotlight on an up-and-coming performer (perhaps someone with whom the producer was romantically involved). Whatever dance occurred in the shows was usually mere decoration.

All of this was true of Something for the Boys, which premiered on Broadway in 1943, a mere two months before Oklahoma! hit the stage. The show had everything that was supposed to make a show a hit, at least at the time: a big-name star (Ethel Merman at the height of her box-office power), a score by one of the biggest names in the business (Cole Porter, almost twenty years into a long and successful career), and a book by two of the most reliable quipsters available at the time, brother and sister Herbert Fields and Dorothy Fields. The show also had plenty of opportunities for showing off female pulchritude, and a list of random interpolated “specialty” numbers.

Plus, the show took place on and outside an Army base near San Antonio, and thus tapped into the patriotic impulses of the ticket-buying public. The show even ends with a tribute to our fighting boys:

For we’ll all be doing something for the boys While they’re doing so much for us

So, the show had everything, at least by the standards of musical theater in the early 1940s. And it certainly became a modest hit, running for just about a year, which was more than enough in the day for a show to turn a profit. But then, Something for the Boys just disappeared, as did most of the shows prior to and concurrent with Oklahoma! and its Broadway run. Why?

In a word: integration. At the start of my history course, I write that word on the board and tell students that it will essentially become the theme of the entire course. In the context of musical theater, integration essentially means the extent to which the various elements of a show – musical, lyrics, dance, etc. – serve a dramatic purpose in the larger context of the show. Integrated songs progress the plot, reveal character, or establish time and place, with many elements serving a number of or even all of these functions.

Once the critics and the theater-going public got a taste of Oklahoma! and the integrative possibilities that the show reflected, they became less and less patient with the typical Broadway show that Something for the Boys so aptly represented. So the shows that lasted, the shows that we continue to perform and attend today, are mostly the shows that caught on to the Rodgers and Hammerstein revolution.

The plot for Something for the Boys is particularly emblematic of the typical show of its time: three distant cousins jointly inherit a ramshackle Texas ranch. They renovate the house and open it up to servicemen’s wives from the local Army base. A jealous rival insinuates that the place is actually a bordello, so the commanding officer declares the house off limits. All is well at the end when the Blossom Hart, the Ethel Merman character, discovers that she can pick up radio signals through the carborundum in the fillings of her teeth. Yup, her teeth. This creates a classic deus ex machina plot resolution, and all is well with the world.

To hear the score to Something for the Boys by itself, you would have no idea what the story was, which is one of the surest signs of a non-integrated show. My personal favorite in this regard is “By the Mississinewah,” a racially insensitive (by today’s standards) duet in which Blossom and her cousin Chiquita perform a non-contextual number to entertain the troops at a graduation ceremony. Now, admittedly, Rodgers and Hammerstein were certainly capable of including songs in their shows that were there for pure entertainment’s sake. (“Honey Bun” from South Pacificbeing a notable example.)

Don’t get me wrong: the songs for Something for the Boys are terrific, although none of them really became pop standards, as so many of Cole Porter’s other show songs were able to do. But one of the striking things about Something for the Boys is that you could conceivably take all of the songs out of the show, and the story would still work. As musical theater would progress, this would become less and less possible, to the point at which songs and dances have become such an essential part of the story-telling process that we have numerous examples of shows that are all-sung (Les Miserables, Once on This Island) or even all or mostly danced (Movin’ Out, Contact).

Next year, the Boston Conservatory will be putting on a production of Oklahoma!. This production of Something for the Boys is a chance for students and audience members to appreciate that show for the milestone it is.

If you're in the Boston area tonight or tomorrow night, and would like to see Something for the Boys, you can call 617-912-9144 for reservations. The shows are at 8 pm both nights in the Zack Box Theater. Admission is free, and seating is general admission.

March 12, 2012

As you may have read, two formidable cultural icons are making double comebacks on Broadway this season: Jesus Christ and Andrew Lloyd Webber. The former is represented by both Godspell and Jesus Christ Superstar, while the latter has Evita and...Jesus Christ Superstar.

(Click through on the Godspell link above to read my review. I'll be seeing both Evita and JCS later this week. Watch for my reviews.)

I've been hearing great things about the new Jesus Christ Superstar, which has played successful and acclaimed engagements at both the Stratford Festival and in La Jolla. My sources tell me that director Des McAnuff has breathed new life into the piece, which already features one of Andrew Lloyd Webber's most ambitious and accomplished scores, not to mention the sharp and erudite lyrics of Tim Rice. I'm eagerly anticipating seeing the show again, and greatly look forward to communicating my views of the show to you, dear reader.

Now, here's a chance for you to see the show yourself. I have here a voucher two tickets to see Jesus Christ Superstar. (The voucher is good for performances from March 27th to April 26th on Tuesdays at 7 pm, Wednesdays at 2 pm and 7 pm, and Thursdays at 7 pm)

Below are five trivia questions about the show and its authors. Answer the questions as best you can and I will randomly draw a winner from all of the entries with the correct responses. (You can submit your answers via the comment link below. Don't worry: I won't publish your comment until the contest is over.) The contest ends Monday, March 19th.

Good luck!

PLEASE NOTE: The contest is over and the winner has been notified. The answers to the trivia questions are below. Thanks to everyone who entered. --C.C.

1. Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice worked together on a number of shows in the early years of their careers. What are the names of their two other shows that have played on Broadway? [ANSWER: Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat and Evita]

2. Before they struck gold with their big commercial successes, Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Webber collaborated on a show that wasn't actually produced until 2005. What was the name of that show? [ANSWER: The Likes of Us]

3. Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Webber have collaborated, albeit infrequently, since they parted ways after Evita. What was the name of the show they wrote for Queen Elizabeth's 60th birthday? [ANSWER: Cricket]

4. What was the name of the song that Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Webber wrote that won them the Academy Award? [ANSWER: "You Must Love Me"]

5. What's Andrew Lloyd Webber's last name? [ANSWER: "Lloyd Webber" is ALW's technical last name, not "Webber," although one observant reader pointed out that "Lloyd" is actually ALW's father's middle name, and that "Lloyd" isn't historically part of the family's surname, but rather a relatively recent addition to same. So there.]

That was the tag line in the ads for Carrie when it first appeared on stage in 1988. At the time, it was certainly true, but not really in the way that the copywriters intended. Carrie became a flop of legendary proportions, and went on to achieve fabled status among the Broadway in-crowd.

With the passage of time, however, the phrase "There's never been a musical like her" has lost a bit of its appropriateness. For now we do actually have a musical like Carrie, and it's been playing for over a year at the [shudder] Foxwoods Theater. I refer, of course, to Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark.

The comparison may not seem immediately apt, but bear with me. Carrie has become legendary not, I think, because it was irredeemably awful, but rather because there was enough of what appeared to be genuinely solid writing amid all the laughably awful material to make a generation of theater queens ponder what might have been. (The show was never recorded, but lives on through...er...private recordings of the material.)

Well, we can stop pondering. It might have been worse. And now, in a perverse way, it is. The MCC Theater is currently presenting a significantly revised Carrie at the Lucille Lortel Theatre in Greenwich Village. Carrie is, of course, based upon the Stephen King novel of the same name about a troubled teenage girl with telekinesis.

And here's the Spider-Man parallel: once the producers got rid of Julie Taymor and brought in a new team to make the show comprehensible, it sort of took away all the fun. (Read my reviews of Spider-Man before and after the revisions.) The same has happened with Carrie: without the kitsch, Carrie is simply lame.

I get the sense that the creators (librettist Lawrence D. Cohen, lyricist Dean Pitchford, composer Michael Gore) were thinking that Carrie got a bad break in its original incarnation and that it just needed a bit of rewriting and a new production concept to bring out the power of the piece. But here's the sorry truth: Carrie wasn't just badly produced and directed. It was badly written as well.

Granted, not all of the show is terrible, but the parts that are genuinely good about Carrie 2.0 are the parts that were already good about Carrie 1.0: "And Eve Was Weak," "I Remember How Those Boys Could Dance," and "When There's No One." Essentially, these are the songs for Margaret White, Carrie's hyper-religious mother, played here with great power and pathos by Marin Mazzie. The stuff that the creators have cut was ironically what made the show "so bad it's good" in the first place. The material that has replaced it is pedestrian at best, amateurish at worst. The show that was once an unintentional hoot is now flat and dull.

The new Carrie starts with a new prologue that eventually becomes a framing device for the show: good girl Sue Snell is giving yet another in a series of statements to the police about what happened That Fateful Night. The show then segues into the same opening number that it had 24 years ago, only now director Stafford Arima seems to be making a deliberate attempt to make the show's tone more consistent. The original Carrie started with a howlingly funny opening number that was completely out of place with the intended tone of the show. It's interesting that, although there do appear to have been some changes to the lyric, here the underlying number is essentially the same. It serves to emphasize that, underneath the new American Idiot choreography and Next to Normal orchestrations, Carrie is really the same bad show it has always been.

Among the precious (and not in the good way) new material is a song in which Tommy, the good boy who eventually takes Carrie to the prom, reads one of his poems aloud in English class. While reading the poem, suddenly Tommy's heart takes wing or some shit, and he bursts into song. In the lyric, Tommy describes himself as "a dreamer in disguise" and "a diamond in the rough." (Yes, well, thank you Prince Ali.) The march of the twee continues in the second act when Tommy throws Sue a pretend prom. (Tommy was supposed to take Sue, you see, but nice girl Sue persuades Tommy to take Carrie instead.) The make-believe prom sequence includes a shudder-inducing new song called "You Shine," containing such immortal lyrics as "No doubts, no fears. I see you shine and the dark disappears."

Carrie also exhibits significant flaws in play-writing and dramaturgy, including inconsistent characterizations, clunky dialog, and flatly unfunny attempts at humor. In the first act, Sue and Tommy seem to change character as the libretto finds it convenient. Sue's staunchly noble nature later in the show makes it tough to believe that she would have taken part in the heartless taunting of Carrie in the first place. And Tommy, who is supposed to be such a nice guy, repeatedly excuses the callous behavior of Billy and Chris, the cardboard bad boy and bad girl of the show, and the direct progenitors of the show's ultimate tragedy.

As for the humor, Cohen seems to have found his comedic inspiration among the bad sitcoms running at the time of the show's Broadway run:

CHRIS: "[My father] said he would buy me a new car if I broke up with [Billy]." SUE: "Why don't you?" CHRIS: "I'm holding out for a Beemer."

And then there's the running gag in which one of Tommy's male classmates repeatedly makes thinly veiled references to finding Tommy attractive, followed by the trademark pause for comedic effect, and the inevitable, "Just kidding!" Ooh, I'm telling you, that's knee-slapper.

[SPOILER ALERT: If there's anyone out there who doesn't know what happens at the end of Carrie, I reveal it in the paragraphs below.]

The final scenes of this Carrie reveal what's still wrong with the piece, exactly where the current production has missed the mark, as well as the heartbreaking promise of what the show could have been. Carrie's classmates play one trick too many on her at the senior prom and she unleashes her telekinetic wrath upon the lot of them. The actual destruction in this production is sort of ridiculous, conveyed almost entirely in humorously literal digital images projected onto unconvincingly writhing cast members climbing the walls. (Of course, the destruction scene in the original used lasers, which was even more ridiculous.)

After the carnage, Carrie returns home, where her mother is waiting with a little stainless steel surprise. But, here's the thing: Carrie's retaliation here was one of the most heart-stopping (ahem) moments I've had in the theater in many a year, made all the more stunning by a searing performance by Marin Mazzie as the mother. (Mazzie alone makes the show worth seeing, beyond the whole rubbernecking impulse. Her rendition of "When There's No One" was positively heartbreaking.)

But then, as if to remind us that the rest of the show sucks major league monkey wang, the creators have Sue Snell enter Carrie's house to comfort Carrie as she dies. Um...what?! Sue has just witnessed Carrie singlehandedly slaughter dozens of people, most of them completely innocent, including Sue's boyfriend, and the most compelling thing Sue can think of at this moment is to comfort Carrie? It was a real forehead-slapping moment, and a fitting coda to the quarter-century-long odyssey of ineptitude that is Carrie.